


To Build A Home

by gay_briel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Feels, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:05:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_briel/pseuds/gay_briel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>His sandpaper eyelids take a century to open, and his eyes drink in the face of the broken man in front of him. He gives the calloused hand a gentle squeeze.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"It's okay Derek," he whispers. "You'll be okay."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Build A Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a songfic based off the Jernalism remix of The Cinematic Orchestra's To Build A Home.   
> For a more painful reading experience, be sure to click the link below to give it a listen.
> 
> I'm sorry in advance for writing angst when I'm meant to be writing fluff...

Find the song here [[x](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RR1rZ9pCwtk)]

* * *

 

Strong, coarse hands grasped at pale, cold skin, desperate and frantic.

"Stiles! STILES!"

Warm hands were a comfort, a distraction from the dark gravity dragging him further, down and down and down.

"No Stiles, you wont do this. You can't do this. Not you. Anyone but you."

The voice is quiet, broken, like a transmission from a far off radio, going out of tune.

He feels, rather than sees the trembling hands stroking his hair and face.

"Stiles. Please."

One of the strong calloused hands takes his own, and he feels the pain seeping out of him like his lifeblood spilling from the deep gash in his side. It's already too late, and they both know that.

His sandpaper eyelids take a century to open, and his eyes drink in the face of the broken man in front of him. He gives the calloused hand a gentle squeeze.

"It's okay Derek," he whispers. "You'll be okay."

His eyelids slip shut, and he hears a wrecked sob as strong arms cradle his fragile body.

Soft lips press to his forehead, and he feels his body being rocked, back and forth, back and forth.

He can feel the last tug on his consciousness, the final pull of the darkness, and he doesn't resist, because in these arms he knows where he is.

 

He's at home.


End file.
